


Before the Dawn

by Karasuno Volleygays (ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Drowning, First Time, M/M, Near-Death Experience, Panic Attacks, Time Skips, Vomit, attempted suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-09
Updated: 2015-04-09
Packaged: 2018-03-22 02:45:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3711874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor/pseuds/Karasuno%20Volleygays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times, Tooru wakes up. One of those times, he almost doesn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Before the Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the 30 Day Kagehina Challenge Day 9: Sleepovers.

**i.**

  
Thunder radiated through the room as rain pounded against the window, and Tooru huddled under his covers. His five-year-old frame shook like a leaf, and sniffles escaped from under the blankets.

The sound of lightning lashing out into the sky made Tooru whimper and wish someone would turn off the sky so he could sleep without being scared.

Grumbling came from the futon on the floor, and another small body clambered up into the bed and into the nest of covers. Thin, sunburned arms wended their way around Tooru’s middle, and the little boy’s shaking subsided little by little until he could feel himself breathe normally again.

“I got ya, Tooru.”

 

**ii.**

   
From: Oikawa Tooru

Sent: April 28 22:37  
Subject: (No Subject)  
Message: It isn’t fair, Iwa-chan! We should have won that game. I hate Ushiwaka-chan more than anyone. We have to beat him.

   
Tooru spilled his thoughts into the outbox of his phone, as he did every time their team suffered some loss that he felt like he should have been able to prevent.

Losing the Inter-Highs to Shiratorizawa had hurt. As a first-year in high school, he had managed to win the job of starting setter for Aobajousai. But instead of being happy that he had such a vital role at such a young age, Tooru merely felt like something was pressing down on his throat every time he thought about a toss that wasn’t quite perfect, serves that landed in the hands of the libero instead of on the floor.

  
From: Iwaizumi Hajime  
Sent: April 28 22:40  
Subject: (No Subject)  
Message: Don’t you dare blame this on yourself, Asskawa. Of course we’ll beat Ushiwaka, but we won’t be able to if you don’t snap out of it and stop freaking yourself out.

   
Of course Iwa-chan would say that. He always said that. It was one more thing that Tooru couldn’t manage on his own. For all the big talk and long hours of practice, Tooru still managed to feel like an invalid in his own life. Ungainly wheels where feet should be. A straightjacket around his will to Just Get Over It.

Ushijima Wakatoshi’s stony expression haunted him sometimes. That bored expression on his face — as if snatching Tooru’s blood, sweat and tears was not worthy of an emotional response. It didn’t matter how much he goaded Ushiwaka, the guy wouldn’t flinch, and it convinced Tooru more and more that one of two things were true:

Ushiwaka was a robot from outer space, and his preprogrammed responses did not respond to the parameter inputs — was soulless and just didn’t care about being goaded.

Or perhaps Ushiwaka was just that much better, and Tooru would never be able to reach him because he was another genius in a long line of foes yet to come. Perhaps even when Tooru escaped Ushiwaka and went on to the next level, there would be someone taller, faster, smarter, and better waiting to step on his throat.

The other option was what kept Tooru up at night.

Tooru never wanted this. He just wanted to play volleyball and be great at it. To help the people around him be great, too, and usually, he was okay. But sometimes, the world would fold him up into the smallest paper crane and leave him adrift. Sometimes, he wasn’t all right, and that omniscient Someone could squelch the air from his lungs until he lost the will to fight.

Sometimes, he tried to get better, and others, he realized the futility and the inevitability.

Sometimes, he really _could not breathe_.

  
From: Oikawa Tooru  
Sent: April 28 22:48  
Subject: (No Subject)  
Message: Help me, Iwa-chan. I think I’m having another panic attack. 

  
He felt weak for sending the text, but when his chest heaved fruitlessly and dark spots danced in front of his eyes until they began twisting into things far more frightening than asphyxiation, he knew better than to be alone. Iwa-chan would never forgive him.

  
From: Iwaizumi Hajime  
Sent: April 28 22:49  
Subject: I’m coming over  
Message: Hang in there, Oikawa. I’ll be there in ten minutes. Unlock your window if you can.

   
The words on his too-bright screen swam in front of Tooru’s eyes as he stumbled over to the window and threw it open, gasping in the cool night air as much as his shuddering lungs would allow. He could only stand there for a few seconds  before his knees clattered and fell apart, and his bones spilled all over the floor. The hiccupping beat of his heart pounded out an irregular tattoo in its ribcage prison. Tears trickled from his tired eyes when he understood that his was what dying would be like.

A minute, a month, a year passed until warm, sun-kissed arms hauled him off the floor and onto the bed. Another body wraps around his and holds him close. Together, they struggled for breath, but every one Tooru drew tasted like vomit until some finally came up.

Slowly but surely, the room began to tilt back onto its correct axis, and the black spots gave way to soft lamplight and familiar territory. Tooru could feel the wet spot on the back of his neck and he knew Hajime was crying. He knew that it hurt his Iwa-chan to see him like this, to be the sole spectator in the small, pitiful pseudo-deaths of Oikawa Tooru. But Tooru was selfish and too reliant on a foundation underneath the crumbling bricks of his self-worth.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped as he maneuvered his face away from the small puddle of puke on the bed. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” Hajime growled into his skin. “Don’t ever be sorry. I’ll always come.” The words wrapped around Tooru, and the cold press of breathlessness melted under them.

Tooru didn’t have to ask if Hajime would stay the night. He always did. “I love you, Iwa-chan,” Tooru said to the quiet room after an hour of deep, calming breaths.

Lips smiled against the back of his neck. “I know.”

 

**iii.**

  
Hajime was _angry_. Tooru had never seen him like that. Not for a long time.

“Iwa-chan, please, just stop,” Tooru pled. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

Wheeling around, Hajime’s chest was heaving as he growled, “Doesn’t matter? How does it not matter, after all you’ve gone through? The muscle sprains, the long hours, the panic attacks . . . how do those stop mattering, Oikawa? You tell me, because I can’t figure it out.”

Tooru kneaded Hajime’s shoulders. “I know it hurts, but this isn’t the end of it. I get it now. I might not beat Ushiwaka, but I can beat someone else just as good or better because I’m never going to stop.”

Something broke in Hajime right then. Tooru could see it in his face. “You might get to do that, Tooru, but I won’t.”

Shaking his head, Tooru wrapped his arms around Hajime’s neck and nuzzled his cheek. “Since when have I done anything without you?”

“I’m done with volleyball, Oikawa.”

Tooru froze. “What?”

Hajime sighed. “You heard me. I’m done. _This_ is done. I’m probably not playing in college. I got an academic scholarship in Aichi, and I have to take it.”

Looking around his room, Tooru looked at the space that he had occupied since he could remember. From circus animals to aliens and then volleyballs, these walls had seen every facet of his life, from learning how to read to the crippling panic attacks he had been prone to his first year of high school. It was how Tooru knew that he was not the only person to live in this room. Hajime was there in the window and in the bedspread and ceiling littered with glow-in-the-dark stars that didn’t hold light anymore.

“You’ll never be done with me, Iwa-chan,” Tooru replied simply. “I’d never let you.”

“No, you probably wouldn’t.”

This moment was nothing like Tooru had imagined. He had known for weeks that Hajime accepted a scholarship, and he waited until his best friend was ready to tell him. It was supposed to be the end of something, but for Tooru, it felt like the start. So they wouldn’t see one another every day; there are phones and computers to remedy that. There would be hundreds of miles between them; a train could travel that distance in under three hours. Hajime was his best friend; Tooru knew they were both ready to bridge that gap with a simple step.

One step, no backward glances. The point of no return.

Tooru reached out and framed Hajime’s face with his hand and pulled him in for a kiss.

When they part for air, Tooru whispered against Hajime’s lips, “Stay with me tonight, Hajime.”

“Always.”

Together, they sank onto the bed, mouths only parting to drift to some freshly exposed patch of flesh. Everything was new. They had kissed once or twice before, but they had never sought to go further because they needed each other too much to make things weird.

But that was all over, and the bridge was burning fast as breathy moans and whispered pleas filled the room. _Their_ room.

 

**iv.**

_  
The game was fucking terrible, since I know you’re wondering. I’ll be home in a few hours. I miss you_.

Tooru listened to those words over and over in his voicemail box, frantically selecting Save Message every time they ended. Over and over again. He could have recited the words with every inflection and pause intact, but he would never allow himself to overwrite Hajime’s voice.

He couldn’t ever do that when it was the last time he would ever hear it.

For the rest of his life, he would never forget that knock on the door. It was Hajime’s little sister, Kou, who stood in the doorway, her face red and wet. Tooru didn’t even ask why she was there; he just hugged her and they had wept together. Kou hated Tooru, had told him that the only power on this planet that would make her willingly be in the same room as him was Hajime. Kou loved Hajime, at least enough to let Tooru know if something had happened.

It was a freak accident. In the history of the Japanese shinkansen, there had only been one death: someone being closed in the automatic doors. That was, until July 17, 2018 at 21:03, when seven members of the Aichi University of Education’s volleyball team were killed after a car coupling and its multiple fail-safes let go. It sent the last few cars of the train flying into a parking garage. The passengers towards the back were not seriously injured, but the first car off the tracks was the unlucky one.

Kou hadn’t told him any of this, of course. How could anyone say that out loud. She just pulled the news report up on her phone (she knew Tooru never watched the news) and handed it to him so he could know that Hajime’s last moments of life were spent in pain, gore, and terror. And alone. Surrounded by people, but alone.

Kou had left him after that. Her family needed her, she said. Tooru wasn’t her family. He couldn’t ask her to abandon her grieving parents for him, not even for the person who had loved Hajime the most, had needed him the most.

When she left, Tooru flicked through his phone, eager to find someone in his vast contact list who would make him feel not alone, would maybe even tell him that all of this was just because Kou hated him even more than she had let on.

The first name that stood out had been Kageyama Tobio, but Tobio-chan was too stupid to know to lie to him. Then there were all the people who knew Hajime and would need to know, would rely on him to tell them. He couldn’t bear that responsibility. Not this soon.

Finally, his eyes lit upon a number Tooru couldn’t even remember why he had, but it was the only one who didn’t know either of them well enough to do anything but watch Tooru melt down and pity him.

He sent a simple text and used the GPS tracker to ping his location and address. _Please help me_ sounded pitiful enough.

His tear ducts burned dry, Tooru turned on the bath water and lowered himself into the tub fully clothed. He was cold, so cold, and the water beckoned to him to slip it on like a blanket. He stared unblinking at the bathroom ceiling, looking at the swirls of plaster and the crack that Hajime had always said he would fix.

Hajime. Hajime couldn’t fix anything anymore. Couldn’t fix the ceiling. Couldn’t fix his uncooperative car. Couldn’t fix _Tooru_.

Tooru shivered in the blistering hot water.

Down he slid, farther and farther, until his nose was just above the water line, and Tooru wondered what it would be like to just slip underneath. His parents would miss him. Nee-chan. Takeru. But anyone else? Maybe Ushiwaka, who he had bumped into a few times during college ball.

The water felt so nice.

His limbs protested out of instinct, but soon, they gave way to breathlessness and then black. The black bent into glaring white, and that was when Tooru saw Hajime. Saw himself. It was the night after they lost to Karasuno, their first night together. His sodden skin could almost feel the caresses, his water-logged ears almost heard the sighs. He’d never believed in heaven before, but if this was where he got to go when he died, Tooru would declare allegiance with any god who deemed fit to send him there.

But it didn’t last, just like its real life counterpart. The bright light gave way to black once again, and his fuzzy ears could make out a distorted voice. Tooru thought he could hear his own name before everything went silent.

 

**v.**

  
Tooru wakes up to sunlight beating through the open windows. It’s mid-summer and  _so hot_ . But the arms plastered to his middle don’t know that as their skin sticks together in the humid morning haze.

“Morning, you,” Tooru murmurs as he turns over to nuzzle his face into his husband’s chest.

“Go back to sleep, Tooru. It’s too damn hot to be awake.”

With a breathy laugh, Tooru smacks him on the shoulder. “So salty this morning, _anata_. I should wash your mouth out with soap. Care to join me in the shower?”

His husband’s face is pressed firmly into the pillow as he says, “Only if you make coffee afterward.”

“Deal,” Tooru squeals and he drags his lover, his best friend, his life partner out of bed, tousling the blond hair he has come to love so much, ignoring protests from its owner.

Tooru can’t even begin to describe how it feels to wake up next to this man every morning, whether it’s a lazy Sunday afternoon like this one (the last free day of their honeymoon, how rude!) or a ‘hit the snooze five times and dash around like mad to get ready’ morning like the days after their tropical escape will be. But it doesn’t matter, because whatever morning it is, he thanks his lucky stars every second that he has another morning to spend.

And then there’s Sugawara Koushi, the one he had messaged out of desperation. The one who had come at his strange request on a hunch. The one who had dragged him out of that bathtub and beat on Tooru’s chest until he breathed again. The one who had slept in his hospital room until Tooru simply stopped fighting his presence.

The one he had asked to run off to Hawaii with him to get married. The one who had said yes. The one who had wondered if he would ever ask.

Has it really been ten years since then?

Tooru has always known that Kou-chan would never take that next step because it’s always been Tooru’s to make. Tooru had been the one to lose the person he loved the most, and he was the one who needed to pull himself out of mourning. And he did because Hajime would have wanted that. Hajime always hated to see Tooru sad.

Kou-chan places a hand on Tooru’s bare shoulder as they prepare to step into the shower together. “Tooru, are you okay? You spaced out a bit.”

A smile twitches on Tooru’s lips. “Yeah,” he says. “Just thinking about mornings. I love mornings.”

Snorting, Kou-chan rolls his eyes. “Since when?”

“Since you,” Tooru says as he kisses Kou-chan’s forehead.

**Author's Note:**

> I am so sorry. I won't even lie, I cried four times while writing this. I'm a terrible person.


End file.
